TRIALS OF WOMAN; AND HER SOLACE.
An ancient example. Trials springing from Physical Constitution.
Acute Feelings. Sentiment of Burns. Trials from Imagination. An
affecting incident. Want of Interesting Objects. Defencelessness
in Public. Sufferings through Affections. Instance of true love.
Trials of Domestic Life. Bereavement. Mrs. Sigourney, on a lost
Daughter. Supports should be equal to Trials. Need of Mental
Culture. Moral Developement. Friendship. Piety the great Solace.
It was remarked by an observing and wise statesman, recently deceased,
that "most women are either formed in the school, or tried by the test,
of adversity." In this class stood the devout Hannah of old. She was
reproached and persecuted by her haughty rival, she was the subject of
remonstrance with her husband, and when she went to the temple of God,
to seek peace in her troubles, because she spake not aloud, but only her
lips moved, she was rudely charged with the vice of intemperance. To
this allegation she replied, "I am a woman of a sorrowful spirit: I have
drunk neither wine nor strong drink, but have poured out my soul before
the Lord." These words remind us of the trials of woman; and they point
us, at the same time, to her only, and effectual, Solace in trouble.
Human life contains much to try the spirits of all. There are many
afflictions, which man must share alike with woman. But, superadded to
these, are sources and occasions of sorrow peculiar to her sex. There
are none, who do not sometimes descend the vale of tears. The cup of
bitterness is placed in the hands of all. But woman is constrained to
drink it sometimes to the very dregs.
In dilating on the Trials of woman, I commence with naming, first, those
which spring from her Physical Constitution.
To man Providence has assigned severe bodily tasks, but he has given him
likewise a vigorous frame. It is the lot of woman, notwithstanding her
infirmities, to sustain more physical sufferings than come usually upon
him. Her nervous organization is more delicate, and her sensibility to
pain must, therefore, be greater. We might cite the scenes of the sick
chamber, and hours, in which she needs a martyr's fortitude. But more
than this, in those sufferings incident to her sex, and almost
universally experienced, she has trials of her firmness, energy, and
patience, from which man is constitutionally exempt. How many secret
tears are wiped from her cheek; what untold anguish does she sometimes
endure. And none the lighter is this load, from her being excluded, by
her silence, from the supports of sympathy. On whom shall she cast her
cares? If there are motives, which forbid the disclosure to human ears,
of the sword that is cutting the bare fibre of her frame, and piercing
her heart, to whom shall she go for strength?
But not the outward man, alone, or chiefly, causes the severe trials of
this sex. Their Feelings are acute; they are peculiarly sensitive to the
circumstances, events, and influences, of this world. The winds of
adversity, which to the stern spirit of man, seem but a passing breeze,
prostrate her to the earth?
"To feel and to suffer," says one of this sex, "are synonymous, with
woman." This may exaggerate the strict truth, and yet it is doubtless
substantially correct. Some of the noblest virtues of her sex imply
great sensibility. What gives fortitude, in her case, such illustrious
merit? Her extreme susceptibility of suffering. The blow, from which the
gnarled oak will rebound, shall crush the frail dahlia. Why is patience
a prime grace in woman? Not only because she has such burdens laid on
her spirit, but still more for the reason that she feels so keenly their
weight. Whence is it that tenderness, and a reliant dependence,
qualities which, in their excess, unfit man to grapple with this tough
world, and are therefore censured in him, as effeminate, are her
ornament and praise? Her native sensibility qualifies her for these and
their kindred virtues, and without them, we deem her an apostate from
her sex.
It would not be too strong an expression to say, that woman _lives_ in
the realm of feeling. Her life is not that outward thing, which it so
often appears. Beneath a calm exterior she sometimes bears an heart full
of disquietude and sorrow. Would you extend her the hand of gratulation?
Be first sure that you can discern the interior of her being. You may
else admit sunbeams to a plant already scorched with heat, and demanding
the waters of sympathy. Consider, too, that as are her griefs, such is
her fortitude. Hence, without question, we sometimes regard her as bowed
and overwhelmed by some worldly casualty, who has in her soul a power of
endurance, that gives her angelic strength.
We hear it affirmed that woman is naturally buoyant of spirit, that she
is disposed to enjoy life, and look on its brighter aspects. Let this be
conceded for truth; what does it show, in relation to her sufferings?
That poet, who wrote from his own delicate soul, tells us that
"Cords, which vibrate sweetest pleasure,
Thrill the deepest notes of _woe_."
So is it, that she who feels most keenly each pulsation of joy, is alive
to corresponding tones of sorrow. The obtuse may receive less positive
joy from the happy events that befall them; but let us not forget that
they suffer also less than the acutely sensitive. Says one of this sex,
of a powerful mind, and a sagacious remarker, "I have seldom met with a
truly cheerful-minded, and contented woman." How should this be, unless
the soul often loses its harmony, and then gives forth discordant notes,
proportioned to its primitive melody? We admire the Corinthian column.
Its lightness and grace are replete with beauty. Yet, in the storms of
this rude world, how often does it prove a fragile thing. The gayest
smile on the fairest face preaches fearful susceptibilities of
disappointment and grief.
Woman is tried moreover by her natural Imaginativeness. The superior
force and activity of this trait in her character can hardly be denied.
She anticipates, in the day of health and happiness, more coming good,
than man dares expect. Fancy creates round her a world of bliss.
"Evermore her eye
Is busy in the distance, shaping things
That make her heart beat quick."
She dreams of golden gains, of victory, conquest, and triumph. The car
of fortune bears her, amid gilded honors, with a subjugated world in her
train.
Or, do gloom and despondency come over her, imagination, not content
with the cloud of to-day, summons from the deep, dark piles, that are
charged with storm and tempest. Let her once begin, with high credit, to
borrow trouble, and the future shall be well nigh drained of its myriad
sorrows. She becomes fancy-bankrupt. An incident of recent occurrence,
illustrates the transition from one to the opposite of these conditions.
A young lady was seen wandering by the banks of the Hudson, wailing, and
wringing her hands for grief. She related to a spectator the occasion of
this grief. A sister-in-law, to whose dwelling the death of her mother
had compelled her to resort, had treated her so cruelly, that she had
fled from her face, and had now no home or friend on earth. Touched with
her troubles, a circle of generous spirits contributed a large sum to
her relief. Such was the sudden ecstasy of her joy that she became
actually frantic.
Another trial of this sex springs from the want of interesting Objects
of pursuits. The boy is no sooner arrived at his youth, than a world of
occupations opens before him. He turns from his father's roof and gives
himself to preparation for some manly calling. A thousand scenes are
daily in his path. Adventure, enterprise, the collision of men, and of
interests, all rush in to fill his youthful spirit. In such courses
trouble stands in his way but for an hour. The agitation and turmoil of
life soon sweep from his bosom even the memory of yesterday's sorrows.
Far different is the lot of the gentle girl. Her school-day tasks
completed, what great object comes in their stead? She has a bounding
pulse, high hopes, and ardent purposes. But whither shall they now be
directed? Will she not fancy the little sphere of home quite too
contracted for her feelings and exertions? In this position of the young
woman, there is much of suffering, that springs from unexhausted
feeling, and is wrought into acute pain. Let her beware of a morbid
self-contemplation. Let her see that she do not expend on her own
thoughts, desires, and feelings, that energy, which should be given to
God, and her associates in humanity. What a foe must she now guard
against. How high and glorious should be that great object, that is to
receive the full strength of her interest.
Woman is tried by her comparative Defencelessness in Public. She may
hold opinions dear to her heart, and sound in themselves. These views
may be unjustly assailed. Yet such is the sentiment of the community she
inhabits, that it would degrade her, to appear as a public champion of
her opinions, wrestling in the vulgar arena with man. Her character may
be rudely aspersed; but who does not feel that to defend it by lifting
up her voice in tumultuous assemblies, or even to enter the lists with
her pen, were derogatory to her sex.
The law of the land may bear, in some instances, unjustly upon her. She
may be deprived of natural rights. No one can deny that she did thus
suffer, and was grievously oppressed, by the laws against Witchcraft, in
the early history of New England. Nor is it impossible that taxation may
wrong her; that divorces may separate her, without right, from her
partner; that fines, imprisonment, and even capital punishment, may be
visited iniquitously upon her. Still what evils, what a vast
preponderance of harm, would accrue, on the whole, from her mingling in
the affairs of legislation, and standing as an advocate at the bar. If
man, through a spirit of despotism, of meanness, or from whatever
motive, shall trench on her God-given and inalienable rights, she must
commit herself to that Being, who ever judgeth righteously.
Another trial of this sex is one which I descant upon, in this place,
with diffidence. Yet so severe are the sufferings, that spring, directly
and remotely, from the exercise of her Affections, that I could not
acquit myself of true fidelity, were I silent on this topic.
By an appointment of Providence, woman is so constituted as to find her
bane, or her blessing, pre-eminently in the interests of her heart. Her
natural ardor, and strength of feeling, prompt her to place her
affections on some object, with concentration and intensity. Nor is she
exempt from that credulity, which usually accompanies an ardent
temperament. Hence, the depths of her heart become often a fountain of
disappointments, troubles, and sorrows. Her affections may be bestowed
where they shall meet no requital. Perhaps this result was wholly
unanticipated; or, it may be, there was less self-control than might
have been desired. Let the cause be of whatever description, the
consequences are most trying to the female character. Man may throw off
a grief thus occasioned by seeking new objects of interest. But woman
must wear the iron round her very soul, and sometimes, only sits down,
to weep, and sink in despondency. For such sorrow there is but one
anodyne. No earthly solace can sustain a spirit thus stricken.
In the destiny of her affections woman is, to a great degree, passive.
She has little option left her. A negative, or affirmative reply, is all
that shall decide the fortunes of her happiness through life. To how
many desires, crosses, and reverses of feeling, to what painful
indecision, or regretted decisions, is she thus exposed. Friends may
induce the receipt of attentions, where her heart cannot follow the
assent of her lips. Perhaps her prospects have but assumed some
certainty, when the promised hand is capriciously withdrawn. I have read
the record of one, who, in the agony of a grief thus awakened, pursued
the object of her regard into scenes of trouble, released him from
prison, by her generous gifts, and attended him, when driven, by his
guilty courses, to actual insanity. She, who thus conducts, is no summer
friend. The blight of such sympathy is no ordinary calamity. Who is
surprised, that untold sorrows, from this cause, should corrode the very
springs of life? Disappointed affection has a melancholy tale to relate,
wherever are gathered the sad subjects of mental derangement. And
blessed are those noble Institutions, which, by the power of
Christianity, soothe the minds, and restore the reason, of those thus
unhappily afflicted.
The trials of Domestic Life impose no light burden upon woman. Those
daily cares incident to the family, are a touch-stone of her patience, a
test of her disposition, and an ordeal to her temper. She has petty
disquietudes, and slight annoyances, singly unimportant, yet in amount
not trivial. How often is her spirit borne down, and her frame
attenuated by the accumulation of these minor troubles. Like the patient
in the restlessness of fever, she needs some composing potion to allay,
and give peace to, her soul.
Again, the character, and deportment of each inmate in her household may
present to her a trial. Self-denial must be practiced by some for the
enjoyment of the remainder. How often does the lot fall upon her. The
reputation of each near relative is another depository of her joys, or
sorrows. Should he, whose position calls him to cherish and care for all
beneath his roof, prove unkind, and selfish, and demand every
arrangement to conform to his ease and appetites, on whom will the
burden of the service required, be imposed? Does he yield to temptation
abroad, forsake the partner of his bosom, and give himself up to sensual
and inebriating habits, there is one heart that must bleed over his
sins. Honor and pride, it may be, forbid her disclosing his errors, and
the fire must consume her spirit in solitude. Needs she no support in
this exigency? What can the world give her, adequate to her fathomless
wants?
But still heavier trials befall this sex in their homes. Sickness visits
the loved. By the midnight lamp, the wife bathes an husband's burning
brow; or the mother administers draughts to the parched lips of a
daughter. To what fears is she then and there subject? Tediously roll
the long hours. Not the body alone sinks, but the spirit at length
faints. For the conviction is forced on her mind that life is
endangered. Suspicion yields to apprehension; that again grows into
argument. The physician shows signs of doubt; friends whisper anxieties.
Swayed for a season between hope and fear, at length, the dread
certainty comes over her. She must part with this being, dear as her own
life. The fatal stroke is near; the hour arrives. Gone forever from
mortal eyes is she, in whom blent
"All images of comforter and friend,
The fireside charmer, and the nurse of pain,
Eyes to the blind, and, to the weary, wings.
What shall console"
The survivor? To whom can we commend her who thus mourns the riven tie
of a mother's love? Where is the solace for the dependent, affectionate
female, who weeps over the ashes of a departed parent? A sister is at
her brother's grave. Pleasant was their love, and who can assuage these
bitter tears? The husband,--deepest of all life's bereavements,--perhaps
it is he, for whom the funeral wail is now heard. What can time, and
dust, and this tomb of earth, minister to her, who sits in the freshness
of widowhood?
The catalogue of your trials, my friends, may seem to some already
prolonged. But have I not left much unsaid? Did _you_ guide the pen,
secrets of grief could be revealed, all unknown but to your sex. But
enough has been written to persuade the thoughtful, that suffering must
be to woman a thing of fearful account. Our afflictions, it has been
well said, never leave us as they found us. We are always either
hardened, or improved, by the discipline of Providence. The question
then with woman, what use she is making of her trials, is one of the
deepest concern. She has peculiar griefs; whence can she gain strength
to endure them?
Woman needs every support that God has placed within her reach. She
requires, first, Mental Culture. This will give her strength of mind,
power to discern the true relations of our nature. A narrow mind cannot
comprehend the great scheme of Providence. If it submit to his will,
there is still much blindness in the act. A fuller trust would come from
enlarged conceptions of duty and life. She, who enjoys reading, can
beguile many a sad hour, by a useful volume. How many are prostrated by
domestic afflictions, for the want of that mental discipline, by which
they might fix the eye of faith steadily on Heaven. The grave absorbs
their thoughts; they want energy to turn from the body, and contemplate
the sainted spirit.
Woman needs a Moral developement, corresponding to the demands of her
peculiar temperament and dispositions. Her sensitive frame, unless
accompanied by great self-control, will betray her into errors, which,
added to the thorns that ever beset the path of human life, will cause
her continual uneasiness and pain. Let fancy be the guiding faculty of
her nature, and in what sins must she inevitably be involved. Its aerial
flights will bear her above the beaten, common-sense, road of duty, and
make her the prey of a fatal instability and its attendant
mortifications, follies, and sorrows. Her acute feelings, and tender
affections need a moral counterpoise. The sudden sickness of the loved
will else overwhelm her, and unfit her for the service she owes them. In
this world of casualties, if her heart be not braced by the power of
good judgment, she will yield to disaster and grief, with a hopeless
inefficiency. Her virtues must be the result of reflection, inherent,
and not incidental. There must be a Christian dignity, a calm repose,
that beautiful balance of character, in which keen sensibility is
sustained by a patient and firm self-possession. So fortified, let her
add one grace more and
"The arched roof, * * * * * *
By its own weight, stands steadfast and immovable."
We may not omit, in this connection, the influence of Friendship, as a
soother of woman's sorrows. Always susceptible of sympathy, and alive to
the voices of kindred spirits, in her trials she feels their
indispensable necessity. How are her affections knit to each relative,
by adversity, disappointment, and death. In bereavement a family build,
as it were, a single monument, each placing its tribute in the mournful
structure. They lean on one another, and, thanks be to God, next to his
own strong arm, there is none so dear in our grief, as that of a friend.
Thanks for human love.
"When cold storms
Rack the worn cordage of the heart, it breathes
A healing essence, and a strength'ning charm,
Next to the hope of heaven."
"The hope of heaven," the prospects and supports of Religion, deep
piety, these I name last, because they are the greatest, indeed, the
only effectual solace, for the trials of woman. "Those wells of
feeling," says a female writer, "hidden in the soul, upon whose surface
the slightest smile of affection falls, like sunlight, but whose very
depths are stirred by the breath of unkindness, are too often unvisited
by the kindly influence of kindred sympathies, and go wearing their own
channels deeper, in silence and in secrecy, and in infinite
bitterness,--undermining health, happiness, the joy of life, and making
existence one succession of burden-bearing days. It is in this species
of blight, that that merciful and compassionate faith, whose words are,
'Come unto me, all ye that labor and are heavy laden, and I will give
you rest,' becomes a refuge and a consolation. Woman may trust to other
lights, in the darkness of sorrow; but they will prove transient, the
meteors of midnight. It is the Sun of righteousness alone, which can
shed true peace on her troubled spirit. Jesus Christ was 'a man of
sorrows, and acquainted with grief.' He only can present to her,
unfailing sources of consolation. She must follow him, and with him,
'glory in pursuing a path of steep ascent.'"
Let her set to her seal, that Religion, however received by man, is a
gift which she can never, with impunity, decline. When piety presents
its claims to the sterner sex, they raise doubts, and questionings, and
comparisons with other goods. But woman may not hesitate for a moment.
So does instinct teach us the fitness of female piety, that even the
irreligious of our sex expect, and require, it in her.
I cannot but feel that the discipline of her trials was intended by
Providence, to impress the first and most affecting lesson on her soul.
It was designed that her pliant affections should twine round our
divine Father, as a pillar of enduring strength. In almost the earliest
stage of her life, and onward to its latest hour, she is upheld by a
little less than visible presence. Rescued by that Power in peril,
enabled to pass through what was once her chief dread, how can she turn
her eye off from him? "God has ever supported and saved me. He will do
it in future." This language is a spontaneous utterance of the true
woman. Thus, like Jesus, is she "made perfect through sufferings."
In this manner does religion become, with her, the medium of continual
Improvement. Mental culture is one invaluable part of female education.
The social graces are a chain of pearls about her neck. But her
permanent being consists of a spiritual principle. Unless that be called
into action she lives but an ephemeral life. Let her pious capabilities
be awakened, let the love of God become her ruling motive, let
submission to his high behest, be the joy of her heart, and she enters
that path, which conducts, eternally, toward holiness in perfection.
She who has a true reverence for her nature, and who comprehends the
powers of her sex, will never rest content with present attainments. She
will study, and unfold her intellect, because God hath endowed her with
Mind, and his glory calls for her mental progress. Her domestic duties
will be discharged in the love of Him, who "setteth the solitary in
families." No event will be lost on her watchful spirit. Each day's
cares and trials will nurture in her a new patience, benevolence, and
active piety. Thus will she build up a character, resting, like the
pyramid in the East, on a basis so broad, and of materials so solid and
enduring, that the ages cannot move its foundation.